


Of Pain and Sighs

by gaysparkler



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood and Injury, Bottom Inquisitor, Dorian doesn't know how to handle feelings, Drama, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Romance, Stabbing, Top Dorian Pavus, gets NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 19:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10669134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysparkler/pseuds/gaysparkler
Summary: While on the Western Approach, Inquisitor Forcas Trevelyan gets critically injured in battle. Dorian is worried. Fluff and smut ensues.Please note: NSFW in the last segment





	Of Pain and Sighs

The Inquisition marched on the Western Approach. Scout Harding had welcomed the Inquisitor Forcas Trevelyan to the new region, and warned him of the dangers. After playful banter, the Inquisitor made his way to the nearest Fade Rift with Cole, Dorian and Blackwall. As they were walking, Forcas heard Cole and Dorian:

“You’re happier now, Dorian,” Cole said.

“Is that what that light, tingly feeling is? I suppose you're right,” replied Dorian.

“Wishing but wondering, wounded and wistful. What if he doesn't want me after?”

“But he did.”

“Now you're smiling! It's good.”

Forcas was smiling too. He heard the explosion coming from the Rift. His smile faded and he got ready for battle. They defeated waves of rage demons and terrors without much difficulty. Other Rifts needed to be closed in the area, but they could get to them later.

After the battle, the Inquisitor was running around the Approach, collecting herbs and metals, occasionally killing hyenas and quillbacks. However, the group stumbled upon a Venatori patrol. The zealots and spellbinders were easy to deal with, but there was one stalker that Forcas did not see sneak up behind him. The Venatori stalker appeared into view and stabbed the Inquisitor in the back, between two plates of his Veridium armour. The sharp pain made Forcas fall to the ground, a groan slipping from his lips. He heard his lover Dorian shout in worry, and saw Blackwall charge to the stalker to kill him. Cole and Dorian participated, but the mage was very distracted and had to stop fighting. He knelt by the Inquisitor’s side.

“Are you done yet? We need to get him back, NOW,” Dorian yelled over the battle sounds. Apparently, this stalker was impossible to kill. Dorian checked the Inquisitor’s vital signs and got extremely worried when he felt the pulse he felt was barely there. Cole and Blackwall finally put their weapons away.

“He hurts,” Cole said, “White-hot, blinding, searing, oh Maker make it stop.”

“Would you stop this? He _will not_ die,” Dorian hissed.

“Don’t we have any potions left?” Blackwall asked.

“No,” answered Dorian. “We used them all closing the Rift and then fighting the Venatori.”

“Let’s get him back to Skyhold,” said Blackwall.

Blackwall and Dorian put each arm of the Inquisitor on their shoulders, and they marched to the nearest camp. Cole stayed silent. His mind was full of Forcas’ pain. He wanted to end it. He had to help. But he knew that the Inquisitor needed to stay alive. Only a few moments more, and they would get back to camp.

The way back to Skyhold was horrible. Dorian never left Forcas’ side, not even to sleep. He watched over his _Amatus_ , convinced that if he looked away for even one second, he would slip away in the Fade. Dorian occasionally carded his hand in Forcas’ hair, the braid undone. His ginger hair fell in curls around his pale freckled face. But it was too pale. The lips Dorian enjoyed kissing so much were dry, and the cheeks that would blush when he would whisper something indecent were ashen. The Inquisitor’s eyes were closed. Oh, how much Dorian wished to see them open, so he could drown in their greenness, like the Breach above their heads.

“Skyhold in view!” a scout shouted. Dorian looked up from his _Amatus_ ’ unconscious form and sighed in relief when he saw the fortress. There, Forcas would get proper care. They were greeted by a worried Leliana, surrounded by an army of healers.

“Move away,” she ordered. “All of you.”

“Can I stay?” Dorian asked.

“No. Of course not.”

“But— “

“Enough. The Inquisitor might die. The only hope for us to ever regain peace over Thedas was stupidly injured in battle. This should have never happened.”

“Are you blaming us?” Blackwall asked, joining the conversation.

“Obviously!” Leliana exclaimed, then sighed. “I do not have time for this. Healers, you know what to do.”

The Inquisitor was taken away on a stretcher. Dorian stood frozen. Cole came beside him.

“He appreciates that you stayed beside him. He could not say it, but I felt it. He hurts, but now you hurt, too. Can I help?” Cole asked.

“I am sorry Cole, I do not think you can do much,” Dorian said, a tear rolling down his cheek.

He wiped it away, and hurried to his private quarters near the library. He would not cry. Crying was weak. Crying was for mourning. Forcas was not dead. _Not yet_. No. He was not thinking that. _Kaffas,_ he told himself. _I get attached and this is what happens._ He sat down on his bed, and noticed an undershirt forgotten by Forcas during his last visit. Dorian picked it up, and bathed in the fragrance. Worn out, he laid down and fell asleep, clutching the undershirt.

~~~

“Can I see him?” Dorian asked.

He did not sleep much last night. At soon as the first ray of the sun reached his window, he walked to the Inquisitor’s quarters. He saw Leliana and Josephine close the door to the quarters as he arrived.

“Dorian, you know what I said,” Leliana muttered.

“You can’t keep me away, you know. I’ll get in somehow,” Dorian said.

“Dorian, about that…” Josephine whispered. “We think it might be best if you stopped seeing the Inquisitor.”

“Nonsense!” the mage exclaimed.

“The attack was lead by the Venatori, Dorian,” Leliana said. “People might think you arranged it to cause the Inquisitor harm.”

“This is preposterous! The Venatori are outcasts in Tevinter, they should know that!” Dorian shouted.

“Not so loud!” Josephine intervened. “You know how the Game works, Dorian. The people will jump on this opportunity to hate Tevinter. Seeing the Inquisitor in an… intimate relationship with an Altus mage from the Imperium could greatly damage the Inquisition.”

“Fine, you win! You know where I’ll be.”

Dorian walked back to the library, heartbroken. Was he truly a nuisance? He could not leave, however. The Inquisitor loved him. Did he? Of course he did. He thought of packing his belongings and leaving, but where would he go? His father hated him, so he could not go to Tevinter. He knew no one outside of the Inquisition. It seemed like the only suitable solution was to remain in his quarters. He would stay away from everything, and everyone, to avoid backlash from the people. He picked a book from the library and sat down on his chair.

~~~

Forcas opened his eyes and sharply inhaled. Everything was aching. His torso was wrapped in bandages and elfroot, making it difficult to breathe properly. However, the medicine’s coolness helped with the pain. He sat up, groaning. Looking around, he hoped to see Dorian expecting him to wake up, but he was alone. He heard his quarters’ door open, and a glimmer of anticipation bloomed. His heart fluttered at the thought of Dorian. What a disappointment it was when Leliana and a healer came into view.

“Inquisitor! You’re awake,” Leliana said, surprised.

The two made their way towards the Inquisitor’s bed.

“Where’s Dorian?” he asked immediately.

“Dorian? He can’t see you, of course,” Leliana answered with a laugh, as if it were the most obvious thing.

“He can’t see me? Leliana, where did you get that idea?”

The Nightingale explained that their relationship may cause harm to the Inquisition. Forcas felt anger rise in him, and he groaned as the healed replaced his bandages.

“Alright, I want to see Dorian,” he said.

“But your Highness, you can’t— “

“I don’t care!” roared Forcas.

Leliana and the healer jumped. The Inquisitor sighed and rested his head in his hands. He inhaled deeply.

“Pardon me,” he whispered.

He did not move until he heard footsteps leaving the room, and the door to his quarters close. He straightened up, carefully resting his injured back against the headboard. He sighed again and closed his eyes. He just wanted Dorian to be there. His sarcasm and sass would take the throbbing ache away. Hopefully, he would get a few kisses, too. From Leliana’s explanation, he knew how Dorian felt. In the many months they had shared together, Forcas understood everything about that man. His non-verbal language, his way of thinking, the little intonations he would use in his speech… Forcas could decode that man. And he was probably awful right now. Blaming himself. Blaming his people. Blaming the Maker. Of course, he would refute feeling such a way. But Forcas would drown him in his love nonetheless, as to tell him that none of it was true, to comfort him. Tears welled up in the Inquisitor’s eyes. He wiped them angrily. What if Dorian had left?

~~~

The sun had gone down. From his window in the library, Dorian watched the moon and stars appear slowly. He had not tried to see Forcas again, as he did not leave his quarters. The room got dark, so he lit a flame on the tip of his fingers and brought it to a torch. He often saw Leliana walk in front of him, but he did not talk to her. In his true fashion, he ignored her out of stubbornness. He thought of sneaking, but what was the point? The Inquisitor needed some rest, not being bothered constantly. He picked up a book, and started reading. He noticed that there was something in-between the pages. It was a dried flower, a crystal grace. How had he not notice it before? Crystal grace flowers were rare. The Inquisitor had probably harvested some in the Hinterlands, months back. Perhaps they were not even in a relationship then. He smiled sweetly. His heart ached to see his _Amatus._

~~~

Forcas had been awake and sleeping in intervals the whole day. Every time he woke, he expected to see Dorian watching over him. The healers came a few times, but there were no signs of Leliana, or any other advisor. He sighed. It was late, now. From his balcony, he could see the bright glow of the moon in the black ink night. The Inquisitor knew that Dorian would not come to see him. If Leliana had used the same words as she used to explain the situation to himself, Dorian would never come. Perfectly awake now, he decided that he would go see him. No matter how bad the pain was.

He pushed away the covers, and walked to his wardrobe. He painfully put on his usual ensemble, grey shirt and pants with silver embellishments. He buttoned his shirt not quite to the top and made his way out. Since it was rather late, the guards posted at his doors during the day had left. He crossed the throne room at a very slow pace, clenching his teeth to avoid groaning in pain. He opened the door to Solas’ study. Damn. He forgot about him. Forcas hoped Solas was in one of his journeys to the Fade. He was not that lucky.

“Inquisitor!” said Solas, alarmed. “You are supposed to be resting, what are you doing here? Do you want me to call a healer?”

“No need,” answered Forcas.

While trying to look casual, the sharp pain returned, and the Inquisitor had to rest his palm against a wall, to prevent him from falling over.

“Inquisitor! You must get back to your quarters!” Solas insisted.

“Not…before I find Dorian,” he panted.

The wounds had reopened, staining the Inquisitor’s clothing with deep, red patches. Forcas stumbled, hit his shoulder on the wall and slid to the floor. Dorian, half bothered by the commotion, headed downstairs in Solas’ study.

“Solas, what are you – Dear Maker, _Amatus_!”

Dorian rushed at the Inquisitor’s side, and knelt beside him.

“What are you doing here? Have you gone completely mad? Look at you, those perfectly good clothes are ruined,” Dorian exclaimed.

“I…wanted to see you,” Forcas answered, painfully slowly.

His breathing was getting raspy, and he started coughing. How much he wished to sleep at this moment…

“ _Amatus_ , stay awake. You wanted to see me, there I am! Look at me, look at this profile…” Dorian said, slightly turning his head to the side.

“You…picture it in marble,” the Inquisitor said with a small laugh, followed by a cough.

“Yes, exactly! Stay with me, my love…”

Solas had ran out, fetching as many healers as he could. The apostate seemed cold at first glance, but a sincere friendship had grown between him and the Inquisitor. He might not agree with every decision, but Solas valued him as an esteemed companion.

The elf soon came back, surrounded by mage healers and surgeons. He and Dorian helped the Inquisitor to his feet. Dorian almost did not flinch when he heard his beloved take a sharp breath and felt the blood on his back. This was too real. He had stayed in his quarters for too long, he did not realise how badly his _Amatus_ was hurt. And to do this, only to see him… It was a foolish thing to do, Dorian concluded. But what did Forcas tell him, all those months ago… _“So let’s be foolish.”_ He smiled and looked to the side to take a quick glance at the Inquisitor. His hair was still down, and smelled like soap. Dorian loved that hair. Loved to run his fingers through it after his lover had a long day, lulling him to sleep…

Soon enough, they made it to the Inquisitor’s quarters. Forcas was laid down on his bed, his back exposed as the healers and surgeons took care of him. Dorian was promptly asked to exit the room, but a weak complaint was heard:

“No, please let him stay…”

Dorian half smiled.

“The Inquisitor has spoken. I will sit down beside him, and do not dare try to keep me away again. You saw what happened,” Dorian said.

Forcas attempted to laugh, but the pain had the better of him and his smile turned into a grimace. The surgeons had started closing the wounds, the most painful part. Dorian grabbed the Inquisitor’s hand and instructed him to squeeze it as hard as he desired. The result were many close cases of broken fingers. After the wounds were sown, the healers delicately put elfroot on the lesions, asked for the Inquisitor to sit up and wrapped a thick bandage around his torso. Dorian had stayed the whole time. The advisors were not keeping him out again. After the people left, the two men were alone.

“I’m sorry,” the Inquisitor said in a rough voice, breaking the silence.

“Sorry? Preposterous! You have nothing to be sorry for, _Amatus_. Except maybe for that grey over shirt.”

Dorian carded his fingers through Forcas’ hair. They were both on the Free Marches bed, Dorian sitting up and the Inquisitor laying on his stomach, his head resting against Dorian’s hip. When he thought his _Amatus_ had fallen asleep, he whispered into the quiet night.

“I love you…”

Dorian did not expect to hear his lover’s deep voice:

“I love you too…”

And then Forcas truly fell asleep.

“ _Vishante kaffas, Amatus… Festis bei umo canavarum._ ”

This time he got no answer.

~~~

Dorian had fallen asleep sitting up, his back against the bed’s headboard. Forcas ended up curled up against him, his right arm wrapped around the other man’s waist. Dorian’s back was aching, sore from the uncomfortable position. He did not dare to move, however, afraid of waking the Inquisitor. He carefully studied his beloved’s face. It was nice to finally see an expression of peace. Yes, he was sleeping and had been stabbed, but it was peaceful nonetheless. Dorian ran his fingers gently through Forcas’ hair, like he did countless times before. He felt his heart swell in his chest. The Inquisitor loved him. He was relatively okay. _They_ were okay.

Forcas stirred in his sleep, Dorian was afraid he woke him up. But then the man settled down again, after resting his head on Dorian’s lap. The mage stretched his arm to his side, trying to reach the bedside table, where a forgotten book had been placed. There was a piece of paper stuck between the pages, probably a marker to remind the Inquisitor of where in his reading he was. It was a book by Varric, because of course it was. _Swords and Shields,_ probably borrowed from Cassandra as it was her favourite series by the dwarf author. Dorian snorted. Such reading was not expected from the Inquisitor. Luckily for him, it was the first book of the series. Starting it surely would not hurt. The sun was not quite up yet, Dorian could see the sky coloured red, orange, pink, and yellow… A hand still in Forcas’ hair, he began his reading.

It was not too long until the sun rose completely, and Forcas rolled his whole body on top of Dorian’s legs. The mage yelped in surprise, and almost dropped the book he was holding on the Inquisitor’s head.

“Enjoying yourself, I see,” Forcas said.

“How you read such things, so void of proper content, amazes me, _Amatus_.”

“You almost read half,” the warrior noted.

Dorian blushed. He shut the book and set it aside.

“I had nothing better to do, you were being lazy.”

“Oh, lazy, am I? How about recovering from a stab wound?”

Dorian immediately felt horrible. There he was, making fun of his injured lover, who put his life in danger only to come see him, even with the horrible pain. Forcas noticed.

“Get down here,” he said, moving away from the mage’s legs. “I don’t want to sit up.”

Dorian could not refuse such a request. He put his palms against the mattress, and slid down until he was flat on his back. It was not long until an arm wrapped around his chest, and a leg draped over his. Emerald eyes were looking up at him. Unable to resist, Dorian leaned down and pressed a kiss on this Inquisitor’s lips. It was chaste, but filled with promises. _I will not let you get hurt again. I will not let your stupid advisors keep you away from me. I will never leave you_. For a few moments, they did not say anything. They both drowned in each other’s eyes. Forcas eventually broke the silence.

“Sleep. I know you, you kept watching over me. It’s my turn now.”

“You’re injured, I won’t let you stay awake while I dose off! What are you going to do?”

“Stare at your face, naturally.”

Dorian chuckled.

“How I missed you, _Amatus_.”

“Just sleep,” the Inquisitor said, pressing his lips to Dorian’s.

A hand slid up Forcas’ neck, tangled itself in his hair, and firmly held his head while Dorian deepened the kiss. Everything was fine, until there was another hand, this time on Forcas’ back, that put too much pressure. He groaned in pain. Dorian immediately stopped touching the Inquisitor and profusely apologized.

“I am so sorry! I should not have done that.”

“I didn’t mind that much,” Forcas hinted.

“Don’t give me that look! I know that look. If walking is that painful and can open your wounds, we are certainly not doing _that_.”

“Dorian Pavus, refusing my advances?”

“I would never! There are special circumstances today. I know you are not fragile. I simply do not want you to be in unnecessary pain. Didn’t you want me to sleep? You forgot about that, didn’t you?”

“Your kisses are…they make me forget things.”

Dorian smiled, smug. He settled comfortably, letting Forcas cuddle him as much as he desired. He could not refuse him that. His eyes started to close on their own, and it did not take long until he fell asleep. Even though Forcas had promised to watch over him, fatigue got the better of him, too.

~~~

The days went by… Dorian seldom went back to his quarters. Day and night, he stayed by the Inquisitor’s side. He did not complain about it. Forcas got stronger with every day. He could walk, causing little to no pain. They went a few times on one of the balconies, to get some fresh air. Dorian loved to look at his beloved’s form, a blanket secured around his shoulders, curly hair let loose and flowing in the wind, looking at the horizon. Forcas would sometimes close his eyes and just _breathe_. Dorian could not resist calling out his name, so those green eyes would abandon the landscape and glide over to his own.

“What is it?” he would ask.

“Nothing. I just wanted to look at you.”

Forcas would then laugh, walk over to Dorian and kiss him. They were in a little heaven. It seemed like the only way for the Inquisitor to have a holiday was to get stabbed in the back and get very too close to death. Unfortunately, as stronger as Forcas got, the more tasks he picked up again. He went to the war table a few times, sending scouts, soldiers and diplomats all over Thedas. Dorian would come with him, of course, even though he found the meetings incredibly boring. Nobles in the throne room noticed how much time the two men spent together. It did not matter. Dorian brought up his concerns to Forcas before, saying that he heard people talk. Forcas’ answer was always the same: “Let them.” And kissed Dorian right after, every time.

~~~

It was a bright morning. Dorian woke up before Forcas, as usual. He was crushed under his lover’s weight. Trying to move as delicately as possible, he reached his arm to the side and grabbed the latest installment of _Swords and Shield_ , just published. Turns out Dorian liked this series very much. He picked up where he left off and read, waiting for his _Amatus_ to wake up. It took three chapters until Forcas stirred, tightening his hold on Dorian. _Ah,_ Dorian thought, _he’s awake._

“Good morning, _Amatus_ ,” Dorian said, a smile on his lips.

Forcas only groaned. He was always like this when he woke up, grumpy. Frankly, Dorian thought it was quite adorable. The Inquisitor pretended as if he did not hear Dorian’s greeting, and nestled his face in the other’s neck. Dorian shuddered when he felt the prickle of his lover’s beard against his skin.

“I know you are awake, my darling,” he said. “You know your advisors need you. It is well past nine.”

“But I am comfortable here,” Forcas protested, his voice muffled by Dorian’s neck. “I just want to stay with you.”

Dorian’s heart swelled. Forcas had a way with words (he had too, actually), even when he was half-asleep. The mage did not want to move either, to be honest. He had gotten used to the feeling of his lover’s weight upon himself.

“How is your back today?” Dorian inquired.

“It’s alright,” Forcas mumbled.

As Dorian predicted, Cullen’s voice was heard.

“Inquisitor! We need you at the war table, the soldiers are back!”

“I’ll be there soon,” Forcas answered.

The two men got out of bed. Dorian helped his lover dress up, choosing a different outfit from the wardrobe. He was rather thankful that the dreadful grey outfit was stained with blood. He picked up a rich brown coat, with green pants and a deep purple scarf. It wasn’t as glamorous as he liked, but it was good enough. Dorian put his own clothes on, sparkling as ever. He turned around two seconds to pick up his amulet from the nightstand, when he heard Forcas grunt in pain.

“ _Amatus_! What’s wrong?” Dorian asked, worried. He rushed at the Inquisitor’s side.

“It’s stupid,” Forcas grumbled. “I only wanted to braid my hair. I’m tired of it always falling over my eyes.”

“A shame. I love your hair.”

Forcas chuckled.

“You thought I didn’t notice? Help me, would you?”

The man could not put his arms quite high enough to do his hair as usual without causing pain. It was quite frustrating, he thought. He could not do half of the things he used to by himself, only because of a stupid stab wound. They would have to bring more potions next time. He did not want that to happen again. He was sure that Dorian thought the same. He felt his lover’s fingers card through his hair, in an attempt to braid it. He smiled. He could picture Dorian’s concentrated face, trying to understand how he would usually do it.

“How you manage such feats every day astonishes me, _Amatus_. I give up.”

“You admit failing at something? Are you well, my love?”

Dorian’s heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat. Forcas rarely used endearment terms for him. He quickly found an answer, though.

“Nonsense, have you seen my hair? I can also do wonders, mind you. In my own way.”

The warrior looked at his reflection in the mirror and burst out laughing. It was a very sad braid, if you could call it that. He saw a glimpse of Dorian, looking sheepish. He turned around, grabbed the other man’s face and kissed him.

“I’m keeping it,” Forcas said, after he broke the kiss.

“What? No! You can’t do that, you look absolutely ridiculous!”

“You made this braid! I can’t destroy what you did.”

Dorian chuckled.

“Fine, have it your way! I will, however, not accept credit of that braid. Its origin stays within those quarters.”

“As you wish.”

They kissed, and left the Inquisitor’s quarters. Forcas went to the war table, and Dorian went to his library. He knew that those meetings could take quite a long time. Dorian had joined Forcas before, when he was weaker, but now that the warrior was relatively better, there was no reason to go. Plus, it was horribly boring. How his beloved could stay in there for hours astonished him. He was calm, happy to be back in his library, but he was still bothered by the lack of books on early Tevinter history. Dorian picked the book in which Forcas had left a crystal grace flower, and started reading. The choice was not only sentimental, he would say. It was a genuinely interesting book.

When Forcas arrived in the war room, he immediately heard a snort coming from Josephine. He straightened his back, standing with pride. His braid might look ridiculous, but it was important to him, as Dorian actually tried.

“Alright,” he said. “Cullen, you said the forces returned from the Wending Woods?”

“Indeed. The mages who refused to surrender were taken care of. This region should be safe now.”

“Good.”

Leliana and Josephine then promptly informed the Inquisitor of other matters that needed to be attended to. Forcas leaned on the table, trying to lessen the discomfort in his back. He would endure. He had to.

~~~

“The Inquisitor requires your assistance, master Pavus.”

Dorian jumped, startled. He had been so engrossed in his reading that he did not notice the arrival of a soldier, until the latter spoke to deliver his message. He put a marker between the pages, closed the book and set it aside.

“Is he still in the war room?”

“The Inquisitor has returned to his quarters, master Pavus.”

To his quarters? The statement troubled Dorian. Had something gone wrong? Forcas was better this morning. Although, when Dorian asked how his back was, he had answered with “alright” … Dorian sighed. He should have known. He stood from his chair in the alcove, and walked with the soldier through the throne room, up to the door leading to the Inquisitor’s private quarters. He thanked the young man, and walked in. He went up the stairs, crossed the corridor and finally entered the room. The first thing he saw was Forcas sprawled across the bed, bare-chested, laying on his stomach. Dorian rushed to his side.

“ _Amatus,_ what’s the matter?”

“It’s nothing… I got tired of standing still, nothing more.”

“I found that difficult to believe. Please, talk to me.”

Forcas sighed.

“Leliana noticed that I was leaning on the war table, and that I seemed distracted. And then she ordered me to go back to my quarters. I insisted, but after she pointed it out, Josephine and Cullen joined in. Cullen says that I must be completely recovered before I can leave. I was only suggesting getting back to the Western Approach, there are many rifts still open, and a keep to capture. I can’t stay here!”

The Inquisitor’s voice grew stronger as he spoke. Dorian removed the hand he hoped had been soothing from Forcas’ back. Instead, he instructed the man to sit up, so they could look in each other’s eyes.

“Give yourself time, _Amatus_. You can take a break. Scouts and soldiers are walking across Thedas as we speak. I know it’s hard. But you cannot blame yourself, love. And you know what, when we’ll get back to the Approach, we’ll only have to take care of the Rifts, since the soldiers will have done everything else.”

Forcas smiled.

“That’s the Dorian I know, always someone else to do the job for him,” he said, laughing.

“Ridiculous, you love me for it,” Dorian replied, laughing too.

“That, I do.”

They sat in silence, eyes locked. Dorian could not help but think about how much he had been worried when the soldier told him that Forcas was in his quarters. He looked down at his hands, on his lap. He took a quick glace to the side, at the Inquisitor’s hands. In a swift motion, Dorian grabbed one of Forcas’ hands in his own. The other man seemed surprised, but did not say anything. The mage then brought the hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Do you want to go to the gardens?” Dorian proposed.

Emerald eyes plunged into his.

“Why not? Let’s go.”

Forcas put on his coat and was about to walk out, but Dorian called out, throwing him a blanket to put around his shoulders. The Inquisitor sighed, insisting that he did not need it, but Dorian wasn’t having any of it. He crossed his arms, and just _stared_ until Forcas wrapped himself in the blanket. The mage smiled, and kissed the other man. They walked out of the quarters, and headed to Skyhold’s gardens. It was calm, Mother Giselle’s voice in the air, soothing believers. Dorian knew that Forcas would go to her sometimes, his faith challenged by the recent events. The Inquisitor’s beliefs were not something they had talked about often. He believed in the Maker and Andraste, but the Herald business was still very unclear to him. Since he had no memories of what happened at the Conclave, he could not know if it was truly the Maker’s bride that saved him from the explosion. The gardens were a place of peace for the warrior. He would sometimes plant seeds, and tend to the growing plants in between missions. Today, Dorian’s hand in his, he went around and watered the sprouts. The sun was still rather high in the sky, but the winds blowing through the mountains cooled the air drastically. Forcas held to his blanket tightly. Dorian noticed that he had started trembling.

“Let’s go back to your quarters,” the mage said.

“We just arrived,” Forcas protested.

“You’re shaking.”

Forcas pulled his hand away from Dorian’s and clutched the watering can. After a few seconds, he decided to set it down, and clutch his blanket instead.

“I know what you’re doing, _Amatus,_ ” Dorian said. “You won’t fool me.”

Forcas sighed. He _was_ getting weak, and he could not win against Dorian. He tried before, and horribly failed. The Tevinter mage could be very stubborn. His trembling hand took Dorian’s again, resigned. Dorian almost pulled him back upstairs, in the privacy and comfort of the Inquisitor’s quarters once again. Forcas wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t when he saw the look on Dorian’s face. His eyes were tainted with worry.

“How long has it been like this?” he asked.

The Inquisitor sat on the bed, his palms covering his eyes. His back was throbbing. He did not say anything to the healers, or to Dorian. He thought he would be able to manage the pain, but as the hours passed, and as he kept thinking about how he should be back on the Approach, it got worse. He felt his lover get closer, and sit next to him. A hand rested on his shoulder.

“I learned a few healing spells while your advisors forbade me to see you,” Dorian said. “I could try something?”

Forcas nodded, and Dorian helped him remove his coat, shirt, and bandages. The mage threw the clothes aside. His palms lit up in a bright white light. He was not used to see this kind of magic emitting from him. Usually, his spells were elemental, or for necromancy. Healing was not his specialty, but for his _Amatus_ he would try. He tentatively touched the deep red wounds on Forcas’ back. The lesions did not look good, they even seemed infected. Hopefully, this spell would take care of it. The Inquisitor inhaled sharply. The magic made his skin tingle and his wounds sting. However, he could feel the tissue healing better than with elfroot. When the scars gained a more pinkish colour, Dorian removed his hands and put the bandages back in place. He could feel that the infection had been dealt with. He leant forward and pressed a kiss on the back of Forcas’ neck.

“Why Solas did not do that before, I wonder,” Dorian said.

The Inquisitor turned around to face his lover.

“Please do not mention Solas just after you kissed me,” he replied, jokingly.

“Oh, jealous, are we?” Dorian added with a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I doubt he would gain interest in me, we have rather different views about magic. Also—“

Forcas shut him up by pushing Dorian down on the bed, and kissing him. His knee slid up, and pressed between Dorian’s legs, making him gasp in the kiss. Their tongues met, and it was perfect. There was no rush, no one was trying to dominate the kiss. A hand undid the horrible braid and tangled itself in the ginger locks. The Inquisitor kept applying pressure on the mage’s groin, making him moan softly. Forcas chuckled. That healing spell had done wonders.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Dorian panted, when the kiss was broken. “If you’re healed, then I can do this…”

Dorian took hold of Forcas’ shoulders, and switched positions so he was on top. In other circumstances, he would have used more force, but the warrior was still healing. However, he was well enough to do this, apparently. Dorian decided that if the Inquisitor showed any sign of pain, he would stop everything. It seemed like a reasonable plan. Forcas had a surprised look on his face. Dorian smiled, and attacked him with kisses, one of his hands roaming the body underneath his, the other keeping himself steady. Forcas’ hands settled on the sides of Dorian’s face, keeping it in place, as if he was afraid to lose it. Laying on his back was not as painful as he thought it would be. _Good,_ he thought, _it has been a while since he was on top._ His train of thoughts was blurred the longer Dorian kissed him. The man knew what he was doing. When a curious hand slipped under the waistband of his pants, he gasped in surprise, and pleasure. His own hands grasped at Dorian’s back, sliding them under the man’s shirt. Dorian’s skin was soft, and his back well-built. Forcas never got tired of roaming his hands all over his lover’s body. Between two hungry kisses, he was able to say something.

“You need— “a kiss interrupted him. “To remove this,” Forcas finished, gliding his hands on Dorian’s chest, pushing his clothes up. It was not fair that he was the only one with exposed skin, after all.

Dorian smirked, and obliged. He sat up, making Forcas complain at the loss of warmth. He gasped when he finally caught a glimpse of Dorian’s bare torso. His abdominal muscles were perfectly defined, his skin smooth. He wanted to sit up, and catch a nipple with his lips. Unfortunately, he did not trust his back enough to do so. Dorian noticed his pouting, and was quick to come back to Forcas. They kissed, the Inquisitor’s hands grasping at Dorian’s biceps. It did not take long until both men were completely naked, their touches becoming increasingly desperate for something _more_.

Dorian had one of Forcas’ nipple in his mouth, making the man writhe under him. Forcas’ face was flushed, as he was trying to contain his moans. Of course, he knew that Dorian would just double his ministrations, until he could not bear to keep silent. That is when he felt a cool hand wrap around his arousal. He first gasped, and then, as the hand gave a few strokes, moaned indecently loudly. His eyes went wide, and he felt Dorian’s lips curl in a smile on his sensitive skin. Everything Dorian touched ignited in Forcas an immeasurable pleasure. Just a brush of his fingers was enough to make Forcas shiver. It had been a long time since he let it all go.

After more teasing, Dorian finally extended one of his arms—making Forcas whine at the loss—to the bedside table to grab the small vial containing the oil they used as lubricant. He poured some in his hand, warming it slightly, coated his fingers and moved his hand further down Forcas’ body, his index finger nudging at his entrance, then pushed it in. Forcas’ gasp was caught by Dorian’s kiss. Stretching him was an easy matter, one finger quickly became two, and then three. Dorian was rather thorough, as it had been a while since he was on top, and Forcas was still recovering. He did not want his _Amatus_ to be in unnecessary pain. Forcas’ breathing had gotten fast, his face and neck were flushed, and he would gasp when Dorian pressed on his prostate. He was becoming desperately needy, his arms wrapped around Dorian’s torso, trying to get his lover’s attention so he could kiss him. Forcas thought he was too manly to admit this, but Dorian knew. The mage leaned down and pressed his lips to the Inquisitor’s, but soon moved this kisses up to nibble on his lover’s ear, making him see stars.

While Dorian had Forcas distracted, he slicked himself up, removed his fingers and replaced them with his aching arousal. Forcas did not even have time to complain about the loss of Dorian’s fingers, as he felt so perfectly full just a few seconds after. Dorian had to still himself, catching his breath. It did not take long until Forcas complained under him, needy as ever. He rolled his hips in an attempt to get some movement. The Tevinter mage soon obliged, pulling his hips back and pushing them forward in a slow rhythm. The Inquisitor groaned, his hands travelling to Dorian’s back. He held him close, trailing his nails down and leaving marks. The mage was quick to pick up the pace, to meet with Forcas’ increasing moaning. Dorian moved his mouth down, his lover’s beard rough on his soft lips. He pressed open-mouthed kisses on the man’s neck, his hips keeping up the rhythm he set. When Forcas gasped, eyes going wide, back arching, Dorian knew he hit his prostate. The Inquisitor held the older man closer. His attempts to remain as quiet as possible were completely forgotten as obscene moans fell from his mouth. He felt Dorian’s lips smirk on the soft skin of his neck. He was getting close.

Dorian shifted his position, putting his weight on his knees so his back was straightened. Under him, Forcas writhed and complained about the loss of contact. Dorian put his hands on the back of his lover’s thighs, pushing his legs back against his chest. He moved his hips faster. The Inquisitor’s hands clawed at the sheets as he gasped and moaned, his face and neck reddening. It was not long until Forcas came, his head turning to the side in an attempt to hide in the pillow. Seeing his _Amatus_ losing all control was enough to tip Dorian over the edge. With a shout and a final thrust, he joined Forcas in his bliss.

Both men were laying next to each other, still catching their breath.

“So,” Dorian said, panting. “Untouched, huh? That never happened before.”

Forcas playfully swatted Dorian’s arm. He turned to the side, hiding his face in his pillow. Shifting caused strain in his back, and he tensed up because of the pain. _Shit._

“ _Amatus_?” Dorian asked, his voice tainted with worry. “Are you alright?”

“Don’t worry,” he quickly replied. “Just sore.”

Dorian pressed his hands on Forcas’ back, soothing the ache with a simple healing spell. The Inquisitor sighed in relief. The mage stood, walked around the room to find a damp cloth to wash himself and his _Amatus_. Usually, he would complain and let Forcas do the work, but a quick look at him confirmed his thoughts. The warrior was completely spent, already half-asleep on the bed. Dorian walked back, slowly cleaning his sleepy lover. When he was done, he laid back down on the bed. He pulled the covers over their naked bodies and spooned his beloved, pressing a kiss on the back of his neck.

~~~

Dorian was the first to wake up, as usual. During the night, he ended up on his back and Forcas had curled up around him. He smiled sweetly at the sight. His lover’s beard tickled the smooth skin of his torso. It was not long until Cullen’s voice rang through the quarters, requesting the Inquisitor’s assistance. Dorian answered that he would send him as soon as he woke up, at the exasperation of the Commander. The mage chuckled when he heard Cullen’s loud sigh. Forcas always overslept.

Their routine started, slowly. Dorian waking up his _Amatus_ with kisses and gentle touches. They both got up—not without complaining on Forcas’ part—and dressed up. The Inquisitor sat down, raised his arms to do his usual braid while Dorian was busy with all the belts on his outfit. At his surprised, he managed to braid the ginger locks like before. He called out to his lover and showed him his success. Dorian chuckled, walked over to the other man and kissed him.

They headed downstairs, Dorian to his alcove and Forcas to the war room. In a few days, the Inquisitor would walk on the Western Approach again.

Forcas went to see Dagna, to make sure that his armour would not fail him again.


End file.
